With my eyes screwed shut, I rolled onto my side and waited for the room to stop spinning before peering over at Tadhg. The space was empty save for a tall screen adorned with hand-painted daisies.
Please be a bath.
Please be a bath.
Please, please, please be a bath.
I steadied myself against the wall and managed to cross to the screen. Behind it sat a wide copper tub filled with steaming water.
For the second time in my life, I was grateful for the existence of magic.
Despite another bout of nausea, I shed my clothes and climbed in. A moan escaped as the water’s heat closed over me. After so many days in hell, I had finally found a bit of heaven.
The lavender-scented soap left on the beveled ledge scrubbed away any lingering tension from yesterday. I even washed my hair. It would take hours to dry, but a late start would be worth it.
By the time I felt like moving, the air around me felt warmer than the water. Covered in goose flesh, I rose. The droplets cascading down my body made me shiver. If only Tadhg was around to conjure up a—
“Looking for this?” A fluffy length of linen appeared on the edge of the screen.
I dropped into the tub, sending a wave of soapy water surging over the edge and splattering onto the floor.
“Thank heavens you’re having a bath,” Tadhg said from the other side. “You were beginning to smell.”
There didn’t appear to be any gaps in the screen. I stood and snagged the towel. “Are you always this unpleasant in the morning?” I teased, wrapping the towel around my torso and tucking the end beneath my armpit.
“Only when I’ve had too much to drink.”
We had that in common. If I didn’t get some food in my stomach soon, I was liable to pass out.
“Do you need someone to scrub your back?” he asked. “I’m a remarkably good scrubber.”
What would Tadhg do if I accepted his scandalous offer? Likely round the screen, brandishing a magical sponge in each hand. “You’re too late.”
“Next time, then.” There was a smile in his voice.
I waited, knee-deep in tepid water, for him to say something else—for him to mention last night.
He didn’t.
It wasn’t until his boots clicked across the floorboards toward the door that I said, “Thank you, Tadhg.”
The steps paused. “For what?”
“The bath.”
“Are you accusing me of using magic, Maiden Death?”
The false horror in his tone made me chuckle. “Go away so I can dress.”
Despite the lingering hangover, today had been a good day. I would even venture to say it had been pleasant. After not paying for the room, I had been hesitant about going downstairs. Tadhg had assured me the prejudiced innkeeper from last night was nowhere to be seen.
Besides a few scandalous comments, Tadhg had been a welcome companion. We even managed to make it all the way to Achad without biting each other’s heads off.
It helped that I had slept a good part of the journey. I’d been in such a good mood when we arrived at the inn that, after I was able to organize a room without trouble, I agreed to join Tadhg for a drink before he went home. He must’ve won Padraig over with his “good behavior” last night, because my coachman said he would leave the pints to the young and left us in favor of his bed.
Two old men in flat caps, dark jackets, and mucky wellies hunched over pints at the bar, and a table of two other couples shared drinks and laughter near the fireplace. Flames from the turf fire lapped at the stones, and smoke twisted up the chimney.
The decorations in the small pub consisted of a few paper clippings tacked to the dark paneled walls and a crooked oil painting of the seaside. The place wasn’t nice—or particularly clean—but it was cozy.
“Are you drinking stout?” Tadhg asked, a silent challenge in the mocking lift to his dark eyebrows.
“I can’t stomach it tonight.” The thought made my head pound as I took a seat near the door. “I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.”
Tadhg nodded and went to order our drinks.
A few moments later, he returned with a glass in each hand.
“One ladylike glass of wine.” Tadhg set a long-stem glass in front of me. “And a gentlemanly glass of the same for myself.”
“You? A gentleman? Hardly.”
“I could be if I tried,” he countered, slipping free of his overcoat and settling onto the carpeted stool across from me.
“Yeah, right.” The idea of Tadhg being anything but an uncouth half-fae was ridiculous. He wouldn’t know the first thing about being a gentleman.
“You don’t believe me?”
I shook my head.
“All right, then. How about a wager?” He leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands beneath his stubbled chin. “For two hours of your choosing, I will be a perfect gentleman. If I don’t meet your standards, you keep your coins when we reach Tearmann.”
With his ability to shift, Tadhg clearly didn’t need the funds. But I could use the money to start a new life for Aveen and myself, far, far away from Graystones. “And if you manage to pull it off?”
A grin. “You let me unlace your stay.”
The fluttering in my stomach was almost unbearable. I should say no, but the odds were in my favor, and since I could choose the time and place . . . “All right.” I held a hand across the table, and he gave it a firm shake.
The chatter from the couples suddenly quieted, and I found them staring toward our table and whispering.
Tadhg turned to see what had caught my attention, and his smile faltered. Instead of pretending not to notice, he saluted them with his glass of wine. They averted their gazes, but the whispers continued.
Surely they had better things to do than talk about us. “They’re very rude.”
“They’re curious.” Tadhg shrugged. “Most humans cannot see any reason for one of you to be associating with someone like me. Beyond the obvious.” The last three words were mumbled into his glass.
“Which is?”
His eyebrows flicked up. “Do you really not know?”
Of course I knew. We had literally just made a bet that included the possibility of him unlacing my stay. “They believe you and I are engaging in romantic relations.”
A smile played on his lips, but he did not laugh. “Yes. Romantic relations.”
Last night, the foolish part of me had been tempted.
What would happen tonight? More importantly: what did I want to happen?
I had only been with one man in my life. A man I had loved with my whole heart. A man who had made me feel like I was too much and not enough.
However, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe love—or even fondness—was necessary in such an equation. I thought of Padraig and his faerie and last night’s discussion about the inns. “Does it happen often?” I asked.
Tadhg’s head tilted as he set his glass aside. A draft from the window at my back flickered the flames on the candles between us. “I’m not sure I understand your question.”
“Humans and Danú. Being intimate. Together.” Before last night, I had never heard of anything of the sort beyond the Gancanagh and a few other wicked faeries. Was that because it rarely occurred or because it was so taboo, no one talked about it?
He gaped at me as though I had spoken in tongues. “Only all the feckin’ time.”
The muscles in my stomach clenched. Wine. I needed more wine. After a large sip, I got up the nerve to ask, “Why?”
Why would a human risk such a relationship? The Danú would never be accepted in polite society or be allowed to obtain gainful employment. Why would one of us enter into an affair with one of them when it couldn’t possibly end well? Was it the same for humans living in Tearmann?
Another question swirled in the back of my mind as Tadhg’s eyes widened.
Would it be worth it?
“What do you mean, ‘why?’” He gave me
an incredulous look. “For the same reason it happens between humans. Lust. A desire to procreate. Feckin’ boredom. I don’t know.”
“Not love?”
“Not in my experience, no.” A muscle in his jaw feathered. “This may come as a huge shock to you, but you’re not that different from us.” Tadhg’s thumb tapped against the tabletop, vibrating the wine in my glass.
He couldn’t be serious. All it took was one glance at the two of us to see how different we really were. “Then why haven’t I been taught the ‘truth’ about the Danú?” If everything I had learned was a lie, why wasn’t someone setting the record straight?
With his teeth scraping his bottom lip, he splayed his hands on top of the table. “Because it is easier to fear the unknown than to try and understand it. And unfortunately, the loudest voices often belong to the most fearful.”
The deep red wine swayed as I twisted the stem of my glass.
Tadhg had called me ignorant.
Perhaps the next ten days with him were my chance to cure that ignorance.
“Do you truly believe the Gancanagh is innocent?” I had been too afraid to ask the question when he had first made the claim. Because if he was innocent—if he didn’t murder Aveen—there was no way I could sacrifice him.
His hand stilled with the glass halfway to his waiting lips. “He’s not innocent by any means,” he said. “However, he and I are well acquainted. And as I told you in the carriage, I know for a fact that he would never kiss a woman unless she understood the consequences.”
That would mean Aveen had wanted to die.
Tadhg may have known the Gancanagh, but I knew Aveen.
She never would have willingly abandoned me.
Still . . . Tadhg seemed so sure of himself.
Don’t trust the creatures. The voice grew fainter by the hour.
“Killing him is the only way to bring back Aveen,” I told him.
Tracing a knot in the wood, Tadhg snorted. “Is that what Fiadh told you?”
I nodded.
He rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. She also said that if you used an enchanted dagger, then you could transfer his life force to Aveen, yeah?”
Again, I nodded.
Tadhg muttered under his breath before taking a gulp of wine. He used his sleeve to wipe his mouth, leaving a red stain on the wrinkled white cloth. “Did it ever cross your mind that perhaps she was lying?”
It had crossed my mind more times than I could count. The wine in my stomach bubbled with dread. “You’re saying it won’t work?”
“Oh, no. Immortal blood is powerful enough to raise the dead, so it’d work. But it’s excessive.” His hand moved back and forth as he rubbed the back of his neck. “And entirely unnecessary.”
Excessive and unnecessary?
“What would you suggest I do?”
Tadhg braced his elbows on the table and leaned so close I could see his pupils dilate. “Nothing.”
“You think I should accept my sister’s fate even when I know I could change it?”
His brow furrowed like he was considering his next words very carefully. His teeth met his bottom lip over and over and over again. “The Gancanagh’s lips are cursed. So, whoever he kisses is—”
His hand slammed on the tabletop, rattling the glasses, making me jump. Tadhg pinched the bridge of his nose, and his face contorted as if in pain.
The couples in the corner were staring at us again.
“Are you all right?” I reached across the table, but he jerked away.
“Whoever he kisses is—” He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Wait a second.
Was he trying to lie to me?
Don’t trust the creatures.
Did he think I was a fool? That I didn’t understand the pain and frustration on his face?
“The ring,” he rasped, motioning to where I had the emerald hidden. “Let me see the ring.”
Don’t trust the creatures.
Tadhg thought I would be stupid enough to hand over the ring after he’d admitted it was the only reason he’d helped me?
I clutched the emerald at my chest. “Absolutely not.” The ring was mine.
His eyes narrowed into slits. “I cannot say what I need to say unless you give me the ring.”
“Try.”
“I. Can’t.”
“And I’m not handing it over.”
Tadhg blew out a breath before gulping his wine. He shoved the empty glass aside and raked his fingers through his hair. The green in his eyes glowed, forcing the blackness to the depths where it belonged. “Keelynn, please—”
The main door flew open, splintering when it collided with the plaster wall. The framed painting rattled, and candles flickered as an unforgiving wind whipped through the pub.
Two figures entered, hoods pulled over their heads and cloaks flaring wide over their skirts.
The door snicked shut of its own volition.
The women moved in tandem across the weathered floor, lifting their pale hands to remove their hoods and revealing identical pairs of glowing green eyes. I wasn’t sure what they were, but they certainly weren’t human.
Their faces were a reflection of one another. The only difference was that one’s jet-black hair was straight and the other’s had a slight wave.
The old men didn’t bother looking up from their pints, but the table in the corner quieted. The women sitting there tucked themselves safely behind the men, who clutched the daggers at their waists.
The barman threw a towel over his broad shoulder and crossed his thick arms. Although he had served Tadhg without issue, it didn’t look like it would be the same for these women.
Tadhg swore under his breath when the twins turned toward our table. With their feet hidden beneath their wide skirts, it appeared as though they floated toward us.
“We heard a rumor you were here,” said the one with straight hair, her voice high, almost childlike.
There was no sign of the frustration and panic from only a moment ago as Tadhg offered them a slow smile. “You know better than to listen to rumors, Caer.”
Tadhg knew these women.
I didn’t want to know how well.
“Who is your friend?” The other one narrowed her eyes at me, her head tilting at an unnatural angle, reminding me of Fiadh.
Were they witches as well?
“No one you need to concern yourself with,” Tadhg muttered.
The same woman jerked her pointed chin at me. “What’s your name, girl?”
Tadhg rose to his feet and strolled toward them. “I said not to concern yourself with her. She’s just someone I met at a pub.”
Someone he met in a bloody pub?
Was he serious?
“If that’s true”—the first woman dragged her long red nails up Tadhg’s thigh—“then she wouldn’t mind us stealing away her handsome companion for a little . . . fun.”
There was no point telling them any different.
Tadhg was nothing to me—a means to an end.
Just someone I met in a pub.
“He’s all yours.” I gave a dismissive wave before drowning any lingering sense of betrayal with a large gulp of wine.
Although I kept my eyes on the knot in the wooden tabletop, I saw Tadhg’s hands slip around their waists as he led them toward the exit. The women took turns whispering to him. He chuckled, a low, dark rumble from his chest. My stomach tightened as I watched him return their whispers with his own. Their peal of giggles was more cutting than the frigid wind that lanced through the inn when the door opened. Thankfully, both were cut off when it slammed shut.
I had barely set the glass back down before the door opened again. Tadhg rushed to the table and collected his overcoat. “Wait for me,” he said breathlessly. “I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he was gone.
The table in the corner went back to their whispers. I felt their eyes on me as I sipped my wine in s
ilence. About ten minutes later, the door opened. A group of six men stumbled in, singing a bawdy song about a man named Willie. They ended up bringing their singsong to the table beside mine. As there were only five chairs at said table, one man remained standing.
Why was I still here, waiting like a besotted fool while Tadhg went off to do heaven-knows-what with those bloody women?
Tadhg wanted the ring.
That was it.
And all I wanted was safe passage to the Gancanagh’s castle.
“That’s an awfully serious face yer wearing.” The man without a chair collapsed onto the one across from me. He was handsome enough, with brown hair and a short, well-groomed beard. “Yer too pretty to frown.” He flashed a toothy grin before pushing Tadhg’s wine glass to the side.
Too pretty. That was a new one.
“I could put a smile back on yer face if ye’d let me.”
His friends sniggered.
“You think so?” I tapped my nail against the glass and offered him a practiced smile—the one I’d cultivated after being told one time too many that ladies should always look pleasant. “And how do you plan on doing that?”
“Come over here, and I’ll show ye.”
Another burst of laughter erupted from the table of drunken sods.
I stood and straightened my skirts. It was fulfilling to watch the man’s eyes widen with something akin to panic when I sauntered over to him. But even more gratifying to hear his friends lose their minds when I dumped what remained of my wine into his lap.
12
The next morning, I found Padraig and Tadhg engaged in quiet conversation beneath the stable’s eaves, avoiding the deluge creating rivers in the street. I raced through the rain without stopping and climbed into the carriage, hoping to delay the inevitable confrontation for a little bit longer.
Ten days left. Only ten days.
Ignoring the opening door, I adjusted my soaked skirts around my boots. Tadhg pushed his damp hair out of his eyes and considered the bench. I made no effort to give him extra room. If he wanted to sit beside me, he was going to be squished into the drapes.
A Cursed Kiss (Myths of Airren Book 1) Page 12
